Ice cold
by Fleppy85
Summary: Sofia & Sara work a case of a serial killer, who kills his victims in pairs. While investigation the case they end up in the hands of the man and the chances of a happy end aren't good. Possible character death
1. Chapter 1

**End of October**

_I like variety, everything has to be different. Everything but two things. I like my whiskey exactly the way I like to kill people: ice cold and double._

* * *

It was cold. Colder than usual. Colder than…no, maybe not. Maybe it was colder than usual. Maybe it was only her who felt cold. Like the…for a long time she felt like this…since… never mind. Long. Too long. Whining about it wouldn't change it so push these thoughts away and get your brain back to reality, to what was and not what you though or felt or any other lie. Facts. Pure facts.

"Two again?"

"Yes."

"Is there…?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"She has it."

For many people this will sound weird or disgusting but you can actually get used to step over bodies. Of course it's nothing you enjoy, it's nothing you want for your perfect day but you could ignore it to a state that you don't think about it, don't care anymore. Your mind started to protect you so you won't get crazy, cry all night long, wake up, see the dead people in your dreams because you didn't stop their killer. The mind was an amazing thing and most times we don't realize what it does for us to make sure we'll survive the day. Or the night. Or both.

"Where are they?"

"Bagged."

"Can I have them, please?"

"They look like all the others before."

"Please."

Black labels, white words. She didn't have to ask to know they were left behind like it happened accidentally. Like when you sit at the bar, have your wet bottle, play with the label and drop it after you have it in your hand and don't want it. Just let it fall on the floor, forget about it.

The difference was this label wasn't dropped accidentally, it was placed to look accidentally. Like it had been before. And they looked the same, not difference to the others. The only difference to the others are the two people nearby. The usual white shirts were red like the trousers they wore. Once there had been a head on their necks now it was more like there was mashed potatoes with pieces of carrots there.

"Same M.O.?"

"Yes."

"Shit."

"You're going to write that in your report?"

Instead of an answer a shadows flies by, only a few yards, followed by a familiar sound. A sound you hear most times from newbies. She wasn't a newbie, she was in this business way too long to react like this. You know that. And you know you better don't mention it. Not like you don't have enough problems already.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!"

Ignoring facts and things is the best way to stay out of trouble but it's not your way. You've always been attracted to trouble, always had to be in the center of trouble. Little Miss Troublemaker is what your mother called you once. Nowadays you were more a Big Miss Troublemaker. So you go to the woman who has her hands on her knees, her head almost on the ground and swears like an old mechanic. Without words you offer your silky tissue, ignore the angry eyes and notice that your tissue gets taken. Good.

"Did anybody see?"

"Make an educated guess."

"We're at a crime scene, top crime scene, over a dozen people around, they all stare and will talk."

"Bull's eye."

"Fuck."

"I know you don't want my advice so I won't give it to you."

"I appreciate that."

"I'll go my round, talk to people who might have seen something. My money is on I'll be back with an empty sheet of paper so hopefully you'll be better than I am."

"I'm always better than you are."

"At least you're still yourself. Later Sara." You don't feel comfortable leaving her like this but you have a job to do and the better and faster you do your job the less likely its that you have to come back to a crime scene like this. You know there will be another crime scene like this if you don't do anything. You can be sure because you have been at two other crime scenes like this. Plus another one with two seriously injured people. All the same M.O., all are likely because of the same person. The one you had to find because it's your damn job!

* * *

"Don't give me any other information than about the case."

"No witnesses."

"I knew it."

"So did I."

"Why are you here?"

"Two dead ambulance officers, two dead firefighters, two dead nurses and two seriously injured garbage men. I think I've got eight reasons to be here. Anything new for me?"

"Same label, trace is working on it right now, my bet is it's the same glue. No fingerprints, we won't find a damn thing, Sofia."

"Probably not." Sofia sat down, sighed. "Can I ask you something?"

"Personal or work related?"

"If it was work related I'd just ask and not ask for your permission."

"We're work."

"We're entitled to have a break, Sara."

"There's no time for a break until we haven't found this killer. You know as good as I do he'll kill again in three days. Jack is very reliable."

"That's the only thing we know about him."

"So lets find out more."

"Sara, you need a break, you're pale."

"I need to find this man and if you don't want to help me please leave the room so I can go on working on the case, detective."

Three years and still no change. Sofia had hoped that when she returned to Las Vegas after three years Sara would be a little bit more friendlier. She wasn't. At the moment Sofia had the feeling it got worse. The last nice thing Sara had said to her was when she thanked her in the hospital for saving her life. That was three years ago. How could it be that time flew and things were still the same?

* * *

Days were bad when there was more than one body to write down in the report. Days were especially bad when they were night and day and your boss told you, you had to move your ass to get a serial killer on the lose or you might lose something. Something like your job. Life was not only a bitch it was not always worth living.

Trying to get the night and morning out of her head Sofia had dropped herself on a chair in a diner not too far from the PD but far enough not to be a hot spot for al cops on duty. She needed some space, some quiet time and not colleagues who ask stupid questions about her case and the killer she wasn't able to find. She knew herself she had to be better, had to get this man before he got somebody else. It wasn't like she didn't make herself a lot of pressure herself. Maybe too much pressure but she wasn't the only one who expected great things of her. There was a family who wanted her at the top of the food chain and didn't accept failure.

"The only reason why I sit down here is because there is no other chair available and I'm desperate for a black coffee and the best scrambled eggs in town."

"Thanks Sara." Sofia snorted. "Why don't you get it as a take away?"

"No more driving before I had a coffee and I prefer my coffee out of real cups and not plastic cups. That's too much work."

Sofia had to admit Sara had a point here. When you wanted to relax you needed a real cup and not a plastic cup. That was like you were on the run and when you're on the run you can't relax. Bloody damn catch-22.

"Wanna talk work, private or no talk at all?"

"Do I really have a choice?"

"That's why I ask, Sara."

"Do you have something new about the case?"

"No. You?"

"No. Why are you here? Cops prefer diners closer to the PD."

"I'm off, I don't want to see cops and I sure as hell don't want to hear their comments about the case and me being useless because no woman can do real police work." These words sounded more pissed than Sofia wanted them to sound. This wasn't the place nor was Sara the person to talk about her work, work problems and problems with her colleagues.

"Trouble?"

"I work as a cop my life is trouble."

Sara cocked a brow. "Just tell me you don't want to talk about it, Sofia, that's all right. I won't start crying like a baby."

"Sorry. I guess I need some sleep – and catch a serial killer."

"Any words on the Feds?"

"No, I'm waiting for that too."

"Won't be long."

"Probably not. Eight people, six dead and two more dead than alive."

"More than enough reason to call them in."

"You think they'll find more than we do?"

"No."

"Does that include me?"

"I'm not sure about that." Sara smiled a bit and took a forkful of her eggs.

"Now you sound more like yourself."

"Sofia, it's not your fault that this man is still on the run. He doesn't leave any traces how are you supposed to catch him? We can't give you a damn thing, there are no witnesses we have nothing to work on. Only the labels. And they're not a help."

"Cheap whiskey, you can find bottles it in every second garbage bin. Labels pulled off with water, left at the scenes. Killer gets his name from a favorite whiskey brand. Or because of Jack the Ripper."

"He doesn't rip. Not really."

"No, he smashes and turns your head into mashed potatoes. Not much better. Sorry." Sofia pointed to Sara's eggs.

"That's all right."

"How's your stomach?"

"Better than my head. It doesn't think. Thanks for not spreading it around."

"We all feel sick sometimes and what he does to his vics is very sick."

"As a professional crime scene investigator I'm not supposed to show any personal moves."

"You're a human not a machine, Sara."

"Sometimes that's a shame."

"No, it makes you human, makes you normal."

"I am a normal person."

Sofia grinned. Sometimes it was better not to say the words out loud you had on your mind. Silence was sometimes gold.


	2. Chapter 2

When the day starts with a short but not very friendly conversation with the boss, it couldn't be a good day. Sofia hadn't entered her office when she got called in the office of the Sheriff, give him a report of the case and taking trouble for a serial killer on the lose. In the eyes of the Sheriff it was impossible that somebody killed six people and didn't leave a trace. He wanted her to do her job, work harder and find the man. Soon. Like yesterday.

"Tell me you have something that gives us a clue where he is, who he is." She greeted Sara who sat in Sofia's office, legs crossed, reading a file.

"We found fingerprints at the scene, some of them were in CODIS."

"That's a start."

"In some cases it was an end. Most of the people who popped up are already in jail and can be excluded. The killer wears gloves, that's why we can't find anything on the labels. He doesn't take them off."

"What about the two injured men?"

"Nothing." The two garbage men had been seriously beaten and were put into an artificial coma. That was four days ago and since then they hadn't been awake. Both arms and legs wore broken, all fingers were broken too. Rips fractured, broken, most organs were damaged and both couldn't breathe without help. Serious head wounds, lost teeth, one lost the eyesight on one eye, broken nose, the list was long and it was doubtful they would ever recover. It had Sofia reminded of the scenes of the gang, that attacked Greg years ago. Only worse. If that was possible. Something that wasn't possible was to believe this was the work of only one person. How could one person do all this?

"He can almost kill two men with his hands and doesn't leave a trace?"

"Not with his hands, he had a baseball bat. Metal baseball bat. No logo. We have some traces of the bat, it's a cheap one, nothing special. Most shops sell it, we have a list of people who bought it the last couple of weeks. Over three hundred. Wanna talk to all of them?"

"If I have to."

"What did the Sheriff say?"

"I don't do my job."

"You do what you can do."

"Then I'm not capable to do my job proper. He expects me to close the case ASAP. Yesterday would be better – for me. Maybe it…" Sofia stopped, bit her lip. This didn't belong to here.

"Maybe what?"

"Nothing."

"Sure doesn't look like nothing."

"Nothing work related. Can you give me the list?"

Sara dropped a folder on Sofia's desk and got up. "Enjoy your tour through Vegas. Three hundred suspects, that's a lovely job for the day."

"Congratulate yourself, I need a CSI."

"Why me? Take somebody else. I don't have time for this."

"You brought the list, you're the leading CSI on the case. We're in this together. Get your kit and we will start. Three hundred suspects, cancel all your date for the next…days."

"Thanks." Sara left the office. Sofia was surprised she didn't slam the door. It wasn't like she wanted to annoy Sara and made her join her to see her mad, she needed a CSI to check the baseball bats and she preferred to work with the best. Sara was the leading CSI on the case, she had been a CSI for over a decade, she knew what she did, she knew what to look for. Why take a newbie when you could get the boss? And why do all the work alone when you can divide it? She took half of the sheets in the folder, put them in a new folder and went over to Brass' office. Her captain worked the case too, why not give him some names to work on?

* * *

"The next baseball bat I see will end up on somebody's head if I don't get a coffee first. And something to eat. To hell Sofia, we've been talking to people, examining baseball bats for over seven hours and all we got is nothing. Nada."

"Close your eyes and count to ten."

"What?"

"Try it."

A skeptical look but Sara did what Sofia asked her to do. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and started to count. Whatever Sofia tried to do, she drove, she had to pay attention to the street while Sara could relax. The problem was as soon as she closed her eyes she saw baseball bats! Grey, brown, silver.

"I get nuts!"

"I'll get a coffee, black as the night and huge slice of cake. Welcome to the coffee shop. Want a break?"

"Absolutely!" That was a good surprise. Sofia had taken them to the next coffee shop. Getting their minds off the work they chose a table under a little tree, ordered two big black coffees, two slices of cake and half a dozen donuts for later.

"How much did you sleep?" Sofia asked carefully.

"As much as you can sleep when you pull a double, go back to the lab for the first results and squeeze in a nap before you start talking to suspects in the morning. I bet you didn't sleep more."

"No." Sofia's sleep amount was similar to Saras. "This case is…I'll be happy when we close it."

"What did the Sheriff tell you?"

"It wasn't what he told me, it was how he said it. Basically he doesn't believe I'm any good at my job and it's my mistake that the killer is still on the loose."

"You're not the primary officer. Brass is your superior, why do you get the trouble?"

"I was handy I guess. Back for a few weeks, not a lot of important friends, it's easier to blame a detective than a captain."

"Did he have any suggestion how to catch the killer?"

"No. He doesn't want to call in the Feds either. Bad politics."

"Great. So we'll fight against the time and a serial killer without real help from the city. Two days are left."

"Yes." Sofia sighed. If she had to bet she'd bet they stood over two bodies in two days. Or seriously injured people."

"Why do you think the garbage men weren't killed? I doubt he left them live accidentally. This guy is way too organized to make such a mistake. He never wanted to kill them."

"That's what I think. But why? What was different to the other six victims? Did the other six piss him off? Did they say something? None of his victims fought back, I can't imagine they had a conversation before he attacked them."

"No drugs, they were sober, there was no reason for them not to fight back. He has to surprise them." And he had to be strong. Sara doubted that he was small, he had to be tall and needed some muscles to do all this damage.

"How do you pick two people to kill? Usually they go for somebody who walks around alone. Not for two."

"And always the same profession. That can't be coincidence either. How does he know they've the same job? Besides the fire fighters they all wear ordinary street clothes. He had to know what they did for a living. Where do you find emergency officers, fire fighters, nurses and garbage men?"

"Around a hospital. Around the fire department. At a crime scene with fire or a car wreck? Garbage men are everywhere."

Sara finished her coffee. "If he words somewhere where you get information about people, where they work, live, you can pick your victims without a problem. He might work for the county, a tax office. We've so many possibilities – more than our three hundred names."

"The names we should go back to. Thanks for the break." Sofia smiled.

"Thanks for stopping here." Sara blinked at her.

* * *

_It's like killing two birds with one stone – or as easy as take ice cream from a child. Choose them, find them, kill them._


	3. Chapter 3

"Two dead banker. Does that ring a bell, detective Curtis?"

"Sheriff…"

"Where have you been?"

"I had a day off."

"We're working on a serial killer case. Are you interested in closing it?"

"Of course…"

"So, where have you been?"

Sofia sighed. "I'm sorry."

"If you want to work high profile cases you have to act like a real cop and not like a Barbie with a gun."

"Sheriff…"

"Get out!"

"But…"

"Out! Now! For a change try to do what you get paid for."

Sofia swallowed and left the office. There were so many feelings trying to win over her body right now. She was mad. With the Sheriff for treating her like she did something wrong. Mad with herself that she allowed him to do this, to make her feel like this. Mad with herself because she took the day off. Yes, she needed it, she needed some sleep, but why did she leave the city? Why didn't she take her cell phone with her? She was shaky, had to fight tears of anger and disappointment.

"Sofia!"

"You want to tell me how stupid I am too? Go ahead, the first round was good, I don't think I'll fight you back."

Sara raised an eyebrow. "Actually I wanted to tell you we checked on all three hundred baseball bat buyers and nobody seems to be our killer." Sara saved them the question what was wrong. She knew Sofia had been in the Sheriff's office so it was obvious who made the blonde detective look like she looked; like shit.

"Great. The bankers?"

"Beaten to death with a baseball bat. There were two labels left, same whiskey brand, no prints. No evidence, no ideas. The only difference was the day. He was one day late."

"Whatever that means."

"Maybe he was out of town."

"Want me to check on all people coming back to Vegas yesterday or the night before yesterday?"

"All…few thousands? Yeah sure, go ahead, I'll see you in three years when you're back."

Exactly. It's not like you'll miss me."

Before Sara could answer Sofia was gone. The blonde wasn't in a mood to talk or to work with her, that was more than obvious. Until Sara had to work with the detective she would stay away and do what she did best: working the evidence to solve the case. She was the CSI, she could always find something to work on. And only people who work a lot and hard find the evidence they need to catch the bad guys.

* * *

"Sofia, where the hell are you?"

"I work on the suspect list you had on your desk. Remember? You told me to get it and start on it." That was the first and last thing Brass had told her when she saw him. Not arguing or asking questions she took the list and started to work it. That was ten hours ago.

"Are you alone?"

"Yes."

"You can't talk to all of them alone."

"I'm halfway through, a few more hours and maybe we get the killer."

"You go home."

"Later. I call you when I get something to work on."

"Sofia…"

She switched off her phone. She knew how to do her job, she was able to catch a killer. And if she had to work the whole night to prove that she would do it. She was a detective and she was good.

* * *

How could this happen? The world spun around, everything seemed to run fast, faster than her eye was able to look. She had to sit down, she needed a break. And this voice had to leave her head. Now! She covered her ears, slammed her head on the door. Go away! Go away! Go away! Fighting with the keys to get out of the pocket she cursed, the world still turning, eyes filled with tears. When did they appear?

Both feet wanted to get in first, she stumbled into the condo, caught herself from falling, managed to find her balance back, closed the door, ran into the bedroom and dropped on her bed. Safe. Maybe all she had to do was closing her eyes and when she opened them again it was all a dream. A bad dream.

Somehow she managed to kick off her shoes. She had to talk to another one. She had to find somebody else, an expert. Somebody who told her this was a lie, this wasn't real. It couldn't be. If she told anybody…she couldn't. No way. She couldn't tell anybody, it was too…too…it wasn't her. They'd laugh and make jokes, talk behind her back. She had to…she had no choice. She couldn't keep it as a secret. Not possible.

"Damn it!"

After she finished work today Sara had been to her doctor because she felt sick again. There was no reason to feel sick, she didn't eat anything old, she didn't have food from the cafeteria or anywhere else, she ate only what she bought and it was fresh. It was good. She didn't touch alcohol, didn't come close to somebody who was sick.

It wasn't food. The doctor made that more than clear. Pregnant. Sara was supposed to be pregnant. That had to be a mistake. She couldn't be pregnant. She was a single, she didn't have a partner, she couldn't be…she shouldn't be…no! This night almost three months ago. Was it possible that she…? She couldn't remember much, she had too many drinks, wanted to forget so many things and…maybe she and this man she never met before had…and didn't… was she really pregnant?

"It can't be." She pulled her shirt up and looked at her belly. Flat. Okay, not entirely flat lie a supermodel but flat like a belly of an average woman her age was. It didn't look like there was a baby inside. How big could it be? Was it too early to see something? Probably.

Oh God she was pregnant!

What was she supposed to do? She couldn't be a mother, she had no ideas what to do, what she had to do, how to raise a child. The right way. She knew how to raise a child the wrong way, she knew how a fucked up childhood looked like. All she had to do was to remember her own childhood. But how did a good childhood look like? How could you have a good childhood with a mother who had no clue about children, was a workaholic and a disaster when it came to people skills and without a father. It wasn't that Sara didn't want the man in her life, she had no idea who he was. She couldn't remember a name, barely his face.

She was pregnant!

Did she have to tell her colleagues? She didn't want to. Sooner or later they would notice but until that day she wanted them to act normal. And she didn't want any special treatment, she wanted to do her job and…get used to the thought she wasn't alone anymore. There was somebody with her. All the time. Somebody who depended on her.

What a scary thought! She was pregnant!

* * *

More dead than alive Sofia dropped onto her bed. It was after midnight, she had been talking to…almost hundred people today. Had woken them up, disturbed their lunch, dinner, break, TV night, kids play, sport, conversations, phone calls, everything people did on an average day. A day you don't expect a detective shop up and ask you questions, makes you feel guilty, like a criminal. And what for? Nothing. She came back with nothing. What meant she had to start early the next…this day and go on with the list.

She wasn't a bad cop and she would prove it!

To the Sheriff. To Brass. To everybody. To herself.

A short glimpse at her answering machine told her nobody tried to reach her. Not a surprise. It wasn't like her answering machine was busy all day. If there was a message it was her mother with a complain that Sofia never called. She was right. So there was no reason to complain or whine about her empty answering machine. It wasn't like Sofia had tried to get in contact with many people since she was back. She kept her life to herself, went to work, to the gym and that was it.

When did she became so…such a loner? She hadn't been like this before. She had been outgoing, had been out a lot, spent a lot of time with people, never had a problem to meet new people. Now she didn't even know her friends anymore. Or the people she called friends before she left.

Why did she go? Now that she was back she asked herself this question all the time. And she wondered why she came back. Nobody really welcomed her. Most times she got some stupid comments, got called a bouncing ball detective. You got thrown away and bounced back. Her colleagues weren't her biggest fans.

What made her stay? Wasn't she better off somewhere else? There was no reason for her to stay, no obligations. She could do herself and everybody else a favor and leave. This time for good. Would anybody care if she packed her things now and left? Probably not. The Sheriff would curse and after that he would be happy she was gone. One bad cop less to worry about. In his eyes she was a bad cop so why care when she was gone?

There was a time when she fought in situations like this. When she got up and did everything to prove herself, to make it clear to everybody she was good. These times were gone, she didn't feel like fighting anymore. What for? No matter what she did nobody appreciated it. Appreciated her.

Nevertheless she set her alarm clock to get up at six in the morning and continue her work. There was a serial killer, she worked the case and she didn't like it when the killer won. She wanted him, she wanted him behind bars and the city a little bit safer. And if she had to work hard for that she did that.

She wasn't a bad cop.

She was a good cop.

"Coffee?" Sofia stopped at a drive through diner. It was time for a short break, a little boost and something to eat.

"Ye…no, thanks. I'm fine." Sara tried to put on a happy face. No more coffee. Caffeine wasn't good for the baby. Her body craved for it, screamed for the caffeine rush that gave her a boost when the energy was gone. Her headache grew, she felt dizzy sometimes and her mood was worse than usual after ten hours of work. Nevertheless she didn't want somebody know what was up with her, didn't want them to notice anything.

"Sure? Something else?"

"A salad cheese sandwich and…an orange juice. I try to cut the caffeine down."

"Why is that?"


	4. Chapter 4

"I realized I live on coffee and fast food, not the best way of living. It's hard to change everything at once so I try to do it step by step. No more coffee besides a cup before work and healthy food – as healthy as it gets in a diner or take away shop."

"Sounds sensible."

"Thanks." She closed her eyes. A coffee. What wouldn't she give to get a huge hot coffee, black as the night and strong. Strong to make her stay awake, make her alert and fit. With this headache she felt like she wasn't capable of thinking.

They were working together since lunch time. Now, seven hours later their last destiny were the crime scenes. All attacks had been in the same area. Their plan was by visiting the scenes again seeing the connection between the victims. Was a path they all went every day? Was it a shortcut to a famous bar? Diner? There had to be something. Something that made them walk there and something that made the killer wait there.

So far they couldn't find a connection. The next hospital was two miles away, the next fire brigade five, the next bank two miles, next to the hospital. They drew lines from the workplaces to the crime scenes, no connection to all five.

The attacks had been between six in the evening and two in the morning. Who waited for a random vic that long? Or did the killer knew they came their way at a certain time? How could he? The bankers came out of a bar next to their bank, their cars were parked in front of the bank, they had no reason to walk around where they were found. And the crime scene was the place they got beaten and killed. Did the killer get them somewhere else, drove to the place where he planed to kill his victims and left them there? There were no skid marks, nothing that indicated a car. Then again it was a sealed road, if the car didn't lose oil or anything, the drive didn't hurry, the car didn't leave any traces.

"Salad cheese and orange juice, there you go." Sofia handed Sara her food and drink."

"Thanks. What do you have?"

"Fish burger and a diet coke. Not as healthy as your choice but better than a hamburger and a coffee with sugar and cream. I thought you're right, if we don't look after ourselves nobody will do it. And I asked a lot of favors of my body the last days I can do something good for it too."

"You had a day off, wasn't that something good?"

"I went on a twenty mile hike."

"What? Why?"

"Because I needed my head clean and I can't get the thoughts out when I sit the whole in my condo and watch TV. The best way to relax for is sport, hiking, running. When I'm exhausted I don't think anymore, I drop into bed and sleep. Exactly what my body and my mind needed."

"One day wasn't enough."

"Would it be enough for you?"

"No." No, Sara needed a year or so. Enough time to leave before anybody saw her belly grew and some time to get back to normal after the birth. A year. All right, whom was she fooling? A child meant more than giving birth to it. There was a lifelong responsibility that came with the baby and a change of lifestyle. She needed a place for the baby to stay while she was working, she couldn't work overtime without planning and thinking and…she jumped out of the car, hand in front of her mouth and vanished into the next bushes.

How was she supposed to keep her pregnancy a secret when she was throwing up the whole time? Didn't that stop? She had this for over a week, it was enough. There was no reason for this, she knew she was pregnant, she got the message and didn't need more. Why couldn't her body support her? Why was it against her? She tried to make it happy, tried to change her way of living to make it easier for her body and it…it didn't appreciate it.

"Was the sandwich bad?" Sofia asked when Sara was back in the car.

"No, I…I don't know. I think I should clean my fridge, something in there must be bad. Guess that happens when you eat most of the times out and forget the things in there. Maybe the mayonnaise. I had it on a few sandwiches."

"How long has it been in your fridge?"

"Honestly I can't remember when I bought nor when I opened it. It looked okay, a little bit yellowish but I thought it's the oil. I guess I'll throw it away when I'm back."

"Would be better. You don't want to have a food poisoning because of it."

"No, not at all."

"Want a new sandwich?"

"I think I'll settle for a plain bagel. The mayonnaise on the sandwich wasn't the best thing, I'm afraid."

"Probably not. I get you one."

"I can do that myself, thanks." Sara got out of the car. How much longer was she supposed to lie? How many more lies did she have to tell before she had no other choice than telling everybody the truth? And was it easier to tell the truth than to lie? At the moment both seemed to be difficult and energy-sapping.

* * *

A bagel later they were out of the car, walking from one crime scene to another. The sun vanished slowly behind the hills while they checked possibilities how the victims could be connected.

"You know when you walk south you come to The Strip." Sofia stopped and looked toward the tall tower of the Stratosphere Casino.

"Is it the shortest way?"

"Could be. I need a map to be sure but from here it looks like it is. The nurses and the emergency officer came this way, if the banker took the same way we have six of ten victims on the same way. The garbage men have work to do here as well, that leaves us with the fire fighters."

"You dial 911, call in a small fire and wait for the fire fighter." Sara realized she stroke softly over her belly. Why did she do that? Did she do that more often? Or since she knew she was pregnant?

"But where was the vehicle? The fire brigade doesn't come on foot when you call them and we didn't find a vehicle. And they didn't call a lost vehicle in."

"Were they off work?"

"Yes, why?" Sofia didn't understand why Sara asked this question.

"They could have been here for private pleasure."

"Here?" They were on a road, an ordinary road with no shops and nothing special to see. A few houses, most weren't in the best condition and an old church without windows.

"Yes. Give this area two or three more hours and you'll have a good variety of male and female hookers. You stop close by after you left work, have a little fun with somebody and go home or to The Strip."

"You know interesting things, Sara."

"You have been away for a while, Sofia, otherwise you knew this too."

"Did you miss me?"

"Like the flu." Sara blinked.

"Still charming – compared to a sea witch. How is your stomach?"

"Better. The bagel was good and the promise to throw the mayonnaise away did the rest. Apart from that I could use a little break."

"How about quitting time?"

"After only twelve hours?" Sara snorted.

"Sorry I forgot we prefer double shifts."

"Exactly. Everything else won't satisfy the Sheriff."

"I doubt there's anything I can do to satisfy him."

"Not if you try it with work."

"Hey, I don't hang around this area in a few hours." Sofia bopped Sara.

"Got another corner?"

"Careful Sidle, I might leave you here."

"You won't."

"Don't dare me, you might…Sara! Watch out!"

Sara turned and the next thing she saw was how Sofia went down after something hit her in her left side. Before she could do or react she felt a huge pain in her head and her world turned dark.

* * *

"…we have to move them or we will lose her."

"Do it."

Greg couldn't take his eyes of what was left of Sara and Sofia. How could this happen? They were supposed to work the case and not become a part of the case. All they wanted to do was have a look around and be back before darkness.

He had just arrived at the lab, prepared for a night with new cases when the call came in. Two women seriously injured in the same area where their serial killer found his victims. Nobody reached Sara, Brass didn't reach Sofia so he and the captain took over. The place looked like any other crime scene before, paramedics were kneeing above two people, the fact that they were still busy told the men the victims were still alive. Two females.

When Greg got the wallet from an officer and saw the I.D. photo his mind tried to tell him this was a pickpocket who got Sara's wallet. It couldn't be his friend. Without words he threw the wallet in Brass' hand and was next to the first victim. He didn't see much of the face, there was too much blood, too much…he didn't want to think about what exactly he saw. All he needed to see was the long hair that had been blonde once and was now deep red. Sofia.

Swallowing the urge to puke down he ran to the next victim. He recognized the watch before he looked at Sara's face. This was the watch he gave her to her birthday. She was one of the victims. A victim of the serial killer and not the victim of a pickpocket. How could that happen?

"Greg?" Brass put his hand on the shoulder of the CSI.

"They are more dead than alive…did you see them?"

Brass lowered his head and nodded. "Yes. It doesn't look good."

"Where will they take them to?"

"Desert Palms."

"I want to go there too."

"I called Grissom, he will send Catherine to Desert Palms to collect evidence. You can't do that, it had to be a woman, you know that."

"What evidence can she possibly get? There was…they were…they are covered in their own blood." As much as Greg wanted believe everything would be good, everything turned into a happy end, he couldn't believe it. He had seen how Sofia looked like, he knew how the other victims looked like. They died. That Sara and Sofia were still alive was only because they were found fast and got medical attention. If they would survive the night, would recover was something he didn't dare to hope. All he hoped for was that they didn't feel the pain. It had to be unbearable. Only one look at them was more painful than anything he ever experienced. You couldn't survive an attack like that one. He had to prepare himself for a goodbye from his friends and colleagues.

* * *

_There is light at the end of the tunnel. There is light when you die. You walk to the light and you will die. Like a mot that leaves it hideout to reach the light bulb. Die, die, die my darling._

* * *

THE END...unless you hate character death as much as I do...so let me know, if you want a different end


End file.
